


Cold War

by HYPERFocused



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Competition, Dessert & Sweets, Games, Inspired by Poetry, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-25 06:19:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/949671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HYPERFocused/pseuds/HYPERFocused
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney is rarely quiescent; John is a treat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold War

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Beware Brain Freeze? (okay, none, really)  
> Team: Romance

"Dr McKay, you're needed in the lab." 

"Damn it, does it have to be now?" Rodney groused. He was busy not being busy, and not in the mood to go through whatever sort of inventory it was that needed his expert attention. True, he only had two laptops and a datapad open (and one of them had the -- very much virtual, thank you very much -- Sims Atlantis game on it), which meant it was downtime; but it was the principle of the thing.

Dr. Zelenka's voice was tinny through Rodney's radio, which was turned on, but lying on his desk. He'd set it loud enough to hear, but quiet enough not to bother him while he and John were -- relaxing. He put it back on to listen to the rest of Radek's explanation.

He tapped his earpiece. "Really? In that case. I'll be right there."

John crinkled a sympathetic eyebrow at him. "What's up?"

"Radek says there's something for me in the lab. I'm guessing it's not a ZPM, and that we're not about to be blown up, so I don't know why it can't wait, but whatever. We all know what happens when I try to delegate around here."

"Do you want me to come?" John yawned, making it clear he didn't want to move from his very comfortable spot, but he would, for Rodney. "I could turn things on, if you wanted."

"No, that's okay. You just save your beauty sleep for turning me on." Rodney pulled his shirt on and went off to see what they needed him for now. He could still hear John laughing as he entered the transporter.

**

"Jeannie sent us something weird." Rodney said, walking back into the suite everyone pretended he and John shared for convenience's sake. He tossed a large plastic sphere at John. "Actually, her note said yours is from Madison. Apparently she likes you better."

" The pretty girls usually do. What'd she send?" John had War and Peace open over his chest, but was really half catching up on a little nap, and half trying to capture Rodney into bed, now that he was back. It was Saturday night, and they had Sunday off, whether they wanted it or not. As long as it wasn't anything like their first enforced day of rest, Rodney really wanted it.

'"It's a complete waste of time, if you ask me. You're supposed to make ice cream with it. You shake it and it works like an old fashioned hand cranker. I don't know why anyone would bother, when we've got a perfectly good machine in the mess. Not that we can get real ice cream, since Atlantis is sorely lacking in cows, and the powdered milk just doesn't taste right."

"Seriously? That's cool." John tossed the ball into the air and caught it again. He read over the instructions Rodney handed him. "This looks really fun."

"I knew you'd like it. You like playing with your food more than eating it. Anyway, it's good timing. We can bring it to the picnic tomorrow. Let the kids toss them around, see how they work."

"What kind of ice cream should we make?"

"I'm sure the cooks can whip something up for us to put in them."

"Where's the fun in that? We should make up our own flavors. Make it a contest, even."

"I'm not exactly a chef, John."

"Doesn't matter. We can use one of the basic recipes and add stuff. Test it out at the picnic. Whichever flavor is the favorite gives the creator bragging rights. And maybe favors for the favorite from the loser."

"And what would that entail?" Rodney had a pretty good idea.

"Well, if you won, and wanted me to touch random Ancient crap for you without complaining, I would. But I'd rather touch you. We wouldn't have to mention that part to anyone else."

"And, unlikely as that is, if everyone's taste buds died and you won?" Rodney asked, amused.

"Oh, I'm already imagining the forfeit I'm going to collect." He eyed Rodney up and down rather lecherously. Rodney found himself thinking, well, at least he's my lech.

Coming up with a recipe wasn't hard. though the thought of giving up a week's chocolate, and two days coffee rations for the cause did rankle. It'd be worth it though, when he collected his winnings. Rodney wondered what John would cook up. He'd ask, but that would go against the spirit of the competition.

Looking around the tented pavillion where the Atlantis expedition and their Athosian neighbors were enjoying their first annual summer holiday picnic, Rodney couldn't help thinking how often alien civilizations resembled a period movie set that nobody had bothered to research very well. It was especially true when one considered the mix of cultures and levels of technology that were by necessity crammed together due to the combination of trading through the Stargate, and running from the Wraith. It kind of shot the whole "don't give the natives advanced tech" thing to hell, with a laser-sighted bow and arrow.

Even more, he noted, how they seemed to resemble the settings of bad bodice rippers, something he'd had cause to learn about when stealing reads from Jeannie's stash of what by all rights was almost, but not quite porn. 

Despite the presence of grimy, clingy children, three-legged races, and was that an egg toss? Rodney was having fun. There hadn't been much time for silliness, with so many threats against their lives, and he was glad Dr Heightmeyer had convinced Elizabeth that a scheduled day off would do them all good. That is, a day with planned activities. Community building, because after all, they needed each other. Their last free Sunday hadn't gone well at all.

Rodney was feeling so magnanimous, he even allowed himself to be caught up in the traditional Circle Toss Dance Teyla and Halling were leading. At his 'suggestion', they'd substituted his blue ice cream ball for the bundle of rags or inflated beast bladder or whatever it was they normally used for a ball, but that wasn't the only reason he played along. Being pulled along by a laughing Teyla on one side, and a pretty blonde Athosian girl who's name he was never going to remember on the other, wasn't a bad way to spend an hour. True, he spent much of that time watching John and the kids at play, which might have tripped him up a bit, but he didn't care.

John's mystery concoction was getting a good mix as well. His bright pink ball was being used in a make-shift soccer game of sorts, though Rodney hoped there wouldn't be any head-butting. That plastic was harder than a real ball. He looked good out there, with his crazy hair and donkey laugh, and the way his stupid, neon shorts showed off his tanned calves wasn't exactly a hardship on the eyes. Rodney couldn't help noting how John's lean, but muscled ass looked in the garish day-glo print of the board shorts he'd dug up from God knows where to wear to the picnic. Rodney was so going to enjoy collecting his winnings later.

When the sandwiches they'd sent over from the kitchens were eaten, both spheres were ready for scooping. A long line formed, each wanting a taste of Rodney's Chocolate Mocha Chunk, and John's Pegasus Berry Jamboree. 

"So what does the winner win?" Jinto asked.

"A day of favors performed by the loser," John answered. "Rodney's going to do all my paperwork."

"Oh, hardly… John's going to try out all the Ancient tech in the 'potentially embarrassing but not dangerous' box."

Everyone laughed, and neither Rodney nor John mentioned to the other the overheard comment "The winner gets one kiss from the loser, and the loser gets two.

Rodney had to admit that John's was good, the tart sweetness of the birraberries meshing well with the ground Roba nuts. Still, his was chocolate, and chocolate always won. 

**

"I can't believe my chocolate didn't win," Rodney complained to deaf ears, flopping onto the bed when they got back to their quarters.

"It was really good," John agreed. "But it didn't have my special touch, now, did it?"

"For all I know, you bribed those kids with Puddle Jumper rides or something. Or maybe you used your patented Sheppard charisma on them. I'm sure you cheated somehow."

"I love you too, Rodney." John was already peeling off his clothes, pants dropping to the floor, shirt on the desk. "I won you, fair and square. Now pay up."

"Okay, what should I do first? And nothing too strenuous, please. I'm kind of tired."

"All right, Camille. Is a backrub too much for you?" John sprawled out on the bed.

"I didn't say I was an invalid. Just that I had a lot of needless activity, and might not be up for a marathon." He straddled John's ass and got down to business. He always did love giving John backrubs. John felt so good, and his appreciative responsive noises went straight to Rodney's dick.

Now John was warm from the celebratory picnic, and smelt like a combination of sea, sand and sugar. Rodney breathed in deeply and bent to kiss John's neck. "I love doing this," he said. happy to smooth out John's knots, stroking his back and arms until John was unraveling beneath him.

After a while, John stretched and sat up. Rodney was pretty sure they'd be getting into some mutual making out, but instead John just stood and said "I want you..."

"I can see that." Rodney reached for him, but John waved his hand away. 

"To stay perfectly still." John finished, reaching down to give himself a good stroke, which was wrong, because Rodney wanted to be the one touching him. At very least, touching himself. 

"You do? Why? That doesn't sound very fun at all."

"Oh, it will be, for me. I want to see how calm and quiet you can be while I try and drive you crazy and don't tie you up."

"I don't do calm and quiet very well."

"Then you should exercise some self control."

"I don't do well with forced exercise or self control, either."

"Actually, you hold your own in forced exercise, at least when you're being chased."

"Definitely not my favorite kind of work out."

"I don't like it when you're chaste, either." John grinned the grin of the putrid punner, which when combined with the naughty wink he attempted at the same time, made him look more than a little insane. "I much prefer you naked."

"I'm not sure I even want to kiss the mouth that would say something so cringe-worthy, much less anything more."

"So it's all right for you to make atrocious puns, but not me?"

"Of course it is. I make up for it by using my considerable intellect to save our asses on a daily basis."

"It is a large and impressive brain." John said agreeably, letting out a little moan as he gripped his cock. "Plus, the rest of you is pretty damn hot, too. You looked really good out there. I wanted to be the one dancing with you, touching you."

"Oh, touching would be good. And kissing. Groping. I can't do anything about it, though. You did say not to move." Rodney grinned smugly. It served John right for making such ridiculous demands just because some backwater aliens couldn't tell superior ice cream when they tasted it. 

'You have a good argument." John relented finally, pulling Rodney down on top of him. And Rodney gave in as well, kissing John's silly face, and warm lips, despite the unfairness of it all. 

**

Epilogue: It was a very successful trading mission. Rodney watched as the Gehesian dairy farmers' bovine gifts were led onto the Puddle Jumper. Six dairy almost-cows, whose milk was said to be sweet and delicious, and would surely make for delicious fresh ice cream. Even better, they thrived on grasses that were both native to the Atlantis mainland and unpalatable to humans.

Someday, Rodney thought, as he noted their bright purple spots, he'd be able to look at them without breaking into rhyme.

**

**Author's Note:**

> I never saw a Purple Cow,  
> I never hope to see one;  
> But I can tell you, anyhow,  
> I'd rather see than be one.
> 
> \--Gelett Burgess :


End file.
